misfire
by calciseptine
Summary: Enma/Tsuna. A collection of drabbles. Update: The Edge. Tsunako's favorite cardigan is a mess on the floor.
1. projectile

**Story Title**: projectile**  
Rated**: T for violence**  
****Status**: Complete // 500+******  
Summary**: [Enma/Tsuna] Tsuna and Enma face the end.******  
Steve's Notes**: I wrote these drabbles immediately after reading ch. 283 (which is the very first chapter Enma was introduced). Therefore, there is a lot of projection on my behalf, though considering Amano's general _lack_ of attention to detail, some quirks I've given Enma may yet remain undebunked by canon. Anyway, each drabble is based of a general scenario as to how I think the Inheritance Arc may end; all of them include a conflict arising between the Vongola and Simon Families, but how Enma plays out his role as head of the Simon Family and how Tsuna reacts to it differ.******  
********Disclaimer**: _Katekyou Hitman Reborn! ©_ Amano Akira

* * *

01. _Scenario I  
_  
"You lied to me," Tsuna states; the only thing that keeps him from roaring in painangergrief is the clarity afforded to him by the flames of his dying will. He keeps his elbows locked into the position needed to fire his X-Burner. "I thought we were friends, Enma."

"Friends?" Enma smirks; the only thing that keeps him from roaring in hysteriamadnessdefeat is the clarity afforded to him by the forced flames of his dying will. He keeps his fingers aimed, locked into the parody of gun. "We were never that, No-Good-Tsuna."

Tsuna only just manages to not grit his teeth. This Enma before him is not the painfully shy, quiet boy who's ring resounded with Tsuna's when his skin slid against his skin, he is not the boy who could shoot a bird out of the sky but was afraid of the gun he was forced to carry, he is not the boy who got stomachaches from eating too much junk food, he is not the boy who repeatedly beat Tsuna in videogames, he is not the boy who became Tsuna's best friend despite their Family rivalry, he is not the boy who ran away when he pressed his lips too hard and too quickly against Tsuna's own.

This Enma is broken, a shell of his Family's ambitions and greed.

"We were," Tsuna states coldly, replies after a breath. "And because of that, I am sorry for what I have to do."

* * *

02. _Scenario II  
_  
"But—" Tsuna grasps for words now that he is no longer enflamed by his dying will. "You tried to—"

"Kill you?" Enma smiles back; it's not a very strong smile, and it wavers at the corners, but it is genuine nonetheless. "Yeah. I did."

Tsuna only just manages not to choke on that logic and his own spit.

"Our Families never got along you know, despite the alliance," Enma continues in his soft, barely audible voice, but his crimson eyes target Tsuna's and stay locked. "There are no other legitimate heirs in the Vongola with you gone, and the Vongola Family would squabble about a true heir. There would have been internal fighting and, eventually, a division. It wasn't anything personal. I was just—"

Enma unconsciously touches the Sky Ring pulsing against his finger.

"—trying to protect them." Tsuna finishes, because even without his hyper intuition, he can still read Enma like a book. "Yeah, I know."

And when Enma's genetically altered eyes flicker away, Tsuna amends, _No, it's more like a mirror._

* * *

03. _Scenario III  
_  
When it comes down to it, Tsuna thinks, this should really bother him more.

He's fifteen. He supposed to be worried about girls and school work and getting into a good high school, not girls, school work, getting into a good high school, and deep-seeded mafia rivalries.

"Come on," Enma laughs. It's a hollow, sharp noise made entirely of desperation and bluff. "Come on, Vongola Decimo, do it!"

So Tsuna does.

And, when there's nothing left of Kozato Enma but a glittering ring on scorched earth, Tsuna thinks it should really bother him more.

* * *

end.


	2. The Sun at High Noon

**Story Title**: The Sun at High Noon  
**Rated**: R for masturbation  
**Status**: Complete // 1000+  
**Summary**: [Enma/Tsuna] Enma stays.  
**Steve's Notes**: I wrote this immediately after reading ch. 286. I'm going to make assumptions again, the biggest one (besides Enma having a giant boner for HDW!Tsuna) being that Enma has never accessed his HDW potential. Also, I wrote this entirely to Mika's new song _Kick Ass_ so go check it out, because it's pretty damn awesome.  
**Disclaimer**: _Katekyou Hitman Reborn!_ © Amano Akira

* * *

A tiny finger pulled back on a trigger—a spring coil released—kinetic energy spiraled into potential energy inside a firing pin—a bit of primer ignited—there was a sharp crack of displaced air just above Enma's right ear as the bullet raced out of the gun barrel—and he had no air left in his lungs to yelp because Tsuna hung upside down from a tree branch with fire smoldering in his hands and in his eyes.

It wasn't the first time Enma had seen someone with dying will in their eyes (_not the first, not the second, not the hundredth or the thousandth_) but Tsuna's fire burned so intensely that it was as though Enma had looked directly into the sun at high noon. The image of Tsuna, with his pink mouth set in a hard, straight line and his lashes lowered half-mast over his calculating amber eyes, was instantly seared into Enma's retinas and now, every time he blinks, that mouth and those eyes flicker back in sharp relief against the black of his eyelids.

Enma does not understand it. In those brief hours between arriving in Namimori and almost convincing Tsuna to run away with him (_was that what he was trying to do?—because that made no sense, he's never wanted to run away __**with**_ someone before, and so what if Tsuna seemed like he _**understood**_?) he didn't think much of Dame-Tsuna, with his fly-away brown hair and timid shoulders. Now it's all he can do to not think of Vongola Decimo Tsuna as the water beating down on his head turns tepid and his fist tightens around the red, hot length of his cock.

_Oh, Christ,_ Enma thinks in the back of his brain as he bites at his bottom lip, desperately choking the whines and expletives in his throat. _Oh, __**fuck**_, why is it him, why am I—Shit, shit, _**shit**_—

He knows _why_, of course, because for all that he gets beat up, for all his negative dispositions, and for all his bad grades in school, Enma really isn't stupid. This thing, this gaping maw of a beast, is awe and jealousy and understanding and disappointment rolled into a small ball that fits inside his ribcage, right between his lungs that beats a heavy, angry, needy tattoo against his sternum. Most would call it a heart, but Enma knows better.

Legs broken apart in a firm stance, forehead against forearm against cool tile, Enma's eyelids squeeze shut and his mind replays the image of Tsuna with fire crackling on his fingertips. If Enma had the courage—and Enma never had courage—the fire would not be hot or even warm; Enma's flesh would pass through it unscathed as though it were simply an illusion. Tsuna would smile at him and it would be soft like his other smiles, but it would lack those nervous traces in the corners.

_Let me,_ Tsuna would murmur as he drops carelessly to his knees. His fingers wouldn't fumble on Enma's belt buckle or Enma's zipper; he would slide Enma's patched jeans down to his knees and his plaid boxers down to the middle of his thighs. Enma would thread his fingers through Tsuna's messy hair—to brace Tsuna or himself, god, how is he supposed to know when the world has narrowed down to Tsuna's wet breath on his head—but Tsuna wouldn't mind, and later, he would even moan when Enma tightens his grip and _ pulls_.

Then, because Tsuna _knows_ what Enma's fists against his temples ask for even though Enma doesn't know, Tsuna would open his mouth and swallow him down, down, down until his button nose was pressed into Enma's wiry pubic hair and Enma could feel the back of Tsuna's throat convulsing against him. He would be unable to breath because Tsuna would slide off him with an obscene pop barely a moment later, lick the slit in his head, and go back down. There would be the threat of teeth against on the vein underside his cock and the vague scrap of Tsuna's spit-slicked chapped lips. Tsuna would do it again and again and again until Enma's nails dig into Tsuna's scalp and he drops cuss words like bombs from his tongue.

And finally, Tsuna would take him deep, his pink mouth stretched over the girth of Enma's cock; he would look up at Enma when Enma looked down and his eyes would be amber and calm and burning sharp with passion and understanding. Tsuna would buck into his own hand he shoved down the front of his pants as he stutters to the end and Enma would know—this Tsuna will never back down, never surrender, never run away—and even though Enma is a coward, he's going to stay—because _fuck_ he's so close close _closeclose__**close**_—

Enma comes with Tsuna's name rammed against the back of his teeth. The water's gone cold and runs icy rivulets down his flushed skin, but when he steps out of the shower and his knees almost give out, Enma doesn't blame his condition on the water temperature. Instead, his eyes flutter shut, and he blames the orange fire that ignites behind them.

* * *

**Omake!**

Aoba Koyo isn't a pervert.

No, really, he isn't.

It's just that when Kozato spends over an hour in the bathroom (when Koyo _knows_ from experience that Kozato only spends a maximum of ten minutes in the shower on the _bad days_ when he's covered in bruises and scabs and old blood) and since his hypothesis that Kozato (at fifteen!) has the sex drive of a sea slug has apparently gone down the drain (literally), Koyo feels that a little friendly encouragement is necessary.

"So, Loser Enma," he leers when Kozato stumbles out of the bathroom, hair damp and bandages a crisp white. "How was your _bath_?"

"Shut up," Kozato mutters and goes as red as his hair. Later, Kozato sics Suzuki on him, but Koyo has always been something of a masochist so it's _totally_ worth it.

* * *

end.


	3. The Edge

**Story Title**: The Edge  
**Rated**: PG-13 for GUESS WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN NEXT GAIZ (and that's about it)  
**Status**: Complete // 500+  
**Summary**: [Enma/Tsunako] Tsuna's favorite cardigan is a wreck on the floor.  
**Steve's Notes**: I was going through the when I stumbled across this prompt: born as a girl Tsuna's first time with Enma. Normally, I'm not a big fan of genderbending (read: REALLY DISLIKE IT) but for some reason the idea of a Tsunako really appealed to me (read: JUST WANTED TO PUT TSUNAKO IN AWESOME TOMBOY CLOTHES). There's actually no sex in this drabble—mostly because I tried, but cried and ran away—so it ended up being a small look into what I think Tsuna and Enma's first time would be like, regardless of Tsuna's gender.  
**Disclaimer**: _Katekyou Hitman Reborn!_ © Amano Akira

* * *

His hands are clumsy and stupid. His fingers fumble on the small, star shaped buttons of her favorite cardigan—a vibrant orange thing that looks strange puddled on the floor next to the bed—and she has to help him with the zipper of her skinny jeans. He gently tugs her soft t-shirt over her head and rolls her fuchsia ankle socks off her feet. She is nothing but her cotton panties and polka dot bra when he pulls his sweater and shirt up over his head and gets caught, struggling with the fabric and falling off the edge of her bed with a small crash. He narrowly avoids the edge of the table and Tsuna winces, praying that her mom didn't hear.

"Sorry," Enma mutters when he manages to get out of his clothes, a frown on his bruised face. "Did you want me to—"

"No!" Tsuna says too sharply, too loudly. Then, after another wince, she repeats more softly, "No, Enma-kun."

The red head nods. There's sunlight coming in through the slates of the blinds and it slashes across Enma's skinny torso; Tsuna can see all the bruises and scars on him, some new, most old. Despite the swarm of butterflies high in her stomach, Tsuna suddenly feels a deep ache.

"They're pretty bad, huh," Enma says as he stands, stepping out of his jeans; his fingers linger on a nasty, mottled scar on his right side. His eyes are shadowed and the corners of his mouth are tight. Tsuna reaches out for him and removes his hand from the scar, tugging on his wrist until his hand covers a long, thin scar on her calf.

"Not so bad," Tsuna replies gently.

Enma kisses her, then, his lips tight against hers and his hand looped around her smooth, naked calf. She reaches up and runs her fingers through Enma's fine hair as he slipes his tongue against her teeth. Her eyelids flutter and she tries not to squeak as Enma thumbs the sensitive skin underneath the wire of her bra. He pulls away only when they're both flushed pink, unsure but eager.

"Are—" Enma tries to say, but his voice sticks in his throat. He swallows to clear the lump in this throat. "Are you sure?"

Tsuna closes her eyes. There are so many reason why she should say no—a majority of those reasons pertaining solely to the mafia—but very few of them are about her or Enma. None of them are about her and Enma _together_. Tsuna knows it's a little selfish, but she wants this more than she wants to forfeit the title of Vongola Decimo to someone else or pass geometry class, and that is the only reason that should matter.

"Yeah," Tsuna whispers when she opens her eyes, stares into Enma's. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Okay." Enma laces one hand with hers, presses his forehead to her collarbone. Then, in a soft sigh against her clavicle, "Me too."

And that's all that matters.

* * *

end.


End file.
